I'd say about 79% of my day is spent wishing I could somehow write down what I'm thinking. I constantly have wordless ideas and silent songs streaming through my head, but rarely find the time or motivation to "enflesh" them by putting pen to paper. I sometimes wonder how many great songs were silenced simply because the writer never made time to listen and write them down. Quite a few, no doubt.
Tonight, as I read Psalm 57, I was struck by David's poetry, so beautiful yet so straight-forward. He apparently wrote this particular psalm while in a cave, hiding for his life. Talk about writing under pressure. David's heart was so full of "silent songs" that he couldn't help but give them life. And tonight, his words inspired me. So I listened and I wrote.
I wrote this poem- though rough and sing-songy- in response to David's. Much of the poem was taken directly from the Psalm, but I also wanted to include elements of my own, so I took it in a new direction. I'd elaborate more, but I'm sick, its 2:30 am, and I think my creativity has nearly run it's course. So, goodnight to all and without further ado, my poem:
Come, my heart
Have you no voice?
Through shadows and broken sounds
I will cry out
Remember, my heart
Have you forgotten?
Through incarnate grace you were formed
Beautiful
Awake, my heart-
How long will you slumber?
-To a purpose enfleshed
By Humble Birth
Sing, my heart
Though words come slowly
Sing, for what greater love is there on earth?
Awake, my heart
Awake, my glory
Awake and sing of steadfast love.
Awake my heart
Awake my glory
Awake the dawn with living songs.
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